In a Word: FFXII
by Fairady
Summary: Series of unrelated drabbles.
1. Grace

Disclaimer: I neither own nor make money off of these characters. You can tell because of, well, Basch. I'd never be able to do that to him.

Warnings: Crossover, Quistis is from FFVIII.

Notes: Ok, so I'm always of the opinion that Quistis needs more love. Makes her an easy character for me to crossover with, and I really wanted to get started with this fandom.

Grace   
by fairady

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"Extraordinary," Balthier said, utterly delighted in the unexpected event.

The blonde woman paused in her fight long enough to send him a tight lipped glare. Even then her attention was focused on the battered guards before her, as one poor fool quickly found out when attempting to rush past her guard. She was pure grace as she spun and caught the man under the chin with the handle of her whip. Muscles rippled in her arms as the slim looking woman almost carelessly threw the now unconscious man into the next two trying to press their seeming advantage. Space clear of immediate threats the woman once again made full use of her whip not at all hampered by the full skirt of her outfit or the high heels of her boots.

It was absolutely magnificent to watch. Skirt flaring with each step, body swiveling to keep balance, and the deadly crack of her weapon flying through the air. She danced across the floor moving to the ageless music of death.

Disappointment filled Balthier when the last guard fell, and the woman lowered her weapon. He was only mollified somewhat that she did not stop moving. In fact, she was turning to stalk towards him with her easy grace.

"Usually when attacked, I expect people I'm traveling with to help me," her voice was low and biting. All her anger was kept tightly reigned. "Not stand back and watch me do all the work."

"It did not seem as if you needed my help," Balthier could not help smiling at the flare of anger that got him. Quickly he stepped back and raising the rifle held loosely in his hands. "I am afraid I am useless right now though. I ran out of shot a while back."

The woman pursed her lips in irritation before turning away. Marching forward with a mesmerizing sway he had only ever seen in Viera before. "Then my suggestion is that you learn to use another weapon. Fast."

"A thought for another day," Balthier slung his rifle across his back, hands brushing the daggers hidden from sight. No need to let on about those, at least not until he learned more about this dangerous stranger.

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	2. Dreams

Disclaimer: I neither own nor make money off of these characters. You can tell because of, well, Basch. I'd never be able to do that to him. 

Warnings: Beware the cute.

Notes: Yes, I'm sure it's been done, but it's too cute for me to not try my own hand at it.

Dreams   
by fairady

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Early morning was always Ashelia's favorite time of the day. The sun would gracefully climb the sky and paint the world around her in shades of fire. There was no clamoring from the city and no loud calls in the palace as everything in the world watched the sun's rise with awe. The breathless beauty of the sunrise was her favorite thing to watch, but it was not the only reason why she liked mornings.

Early morning was _her_ time. It was the only time of the day that she could spend in her father's company and not expect to be interrupted by advisors or petitioners. It was while he broke his fast that she could have him all to herself.

The sun had risen and Ashelia carefully picked her flowers from the garden bed. Inspecting the lilies carefully she decided they were good enough to use. Smiling, the girl ran back to the balcony, depositing her array of colorful flowers on the table before climbing onto her father's lap.

"What beautiful flowers you have found," the king smiled and settled the girl on his leg. "Whatever shall you do with them? Will you make another bouquet for your mother?"

"No," Ashelia squirmed as her father rubbed his chin against her cheek, the scratchy beard tickling her. Red lilies were threaded carefully with the blue flowers she could never recall the name of. "I am making my bridal crown."

"Nay! My beautiful little girl is far too young for such a barbarous thing as marriage!" Ashelia shrieked in laughter as her father bounced her on his knee, fingers finding all the ticklish spots on her back.

By the time she had gained control over her laughter the flowers had been scattered, and her time was almost up. Ashelia pouted over the flowers but contented herself with the knowledge that she could always begin anew.

"Who is the rapscallion that has asked for my only daughter's hand without asking my permission first?" His face broke into a wide grin. "More importantly, who is this man that has caught your fancy enough to think of abandoning your own father?"

Ashelia drew herself up with all the dignity she could muster. "Lieutenant Basch fon Ronsenburg."

"Lieutenant..." the king trailed off to an uncharacteristic silence. "I see, then the Lieutenant has asked for your hand?"

"No," Ashelia gathered what flowers she could salvage and bunched them together. She did not notice the tension in her father disappear. "Basch said he could not until he had slain a hundred demons. For him to do anything less would be an insult to me."

The king threw his head back and laughed deeply. Ashelia joined him shortly, unsure of the cause but happy that he was laughing. "Indeed, the Lieutenant is a smart young man," Her time was over, her father rose from his seat and lowered her to the ground. "He shall have my permission to take my beloved daughter away from me, but only once he has slain a hundred demons."

Ashelia smiled ecstatically as she followed her father inside. She had thought getting his blessing would be much harder. Her feet automatically took her to the barracks as she ran to her third favorite part of the early morning; waking her future husband with the good news.

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	3. Advantage

Disclaimer: I own a pair of boots and a box of ant infested granola bars. So, if you sue for money I'm not making off of characters I don't own that's all you'll be getting.

Warnings: Um, none? Besides me being a bit of a tease. Oh, wait slash!

Notes: Um, yay for randomly going through the massive mess that my WIP folder is and finding crap I only vaguely remember writing? Heh, nothing more than my usual MO for drabbles here.

Advantage  
by Fairady

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The Blind spell hits Basch hard. In the middle of the city he had not expected the attack, fortunately his body reacted quickly. Turning in an attempt to put his back to a wall even as his hands fumbled for the vial that would cure the affliction. Listening the whole while for the hiss of drawn steel or approaching footsteps.

He heard neither and froze in surprise as his hands were seized and forced away from his pouch. He forcefully checked the instinctive urge to lash out though. The calloused hands were familiar enough, and the sharp scent of gunpowder was even more familiar. "Balthier?"

"Relax," Balthier's voice eased the last of Basch's panic. He did not need to see to know the pirate was smirking. He allowed himself to be pushed back. Out of the way? The unrelenting darkness of the spell made it impossible to guess.

"Balthier," his hands were still caught up in the other man's grip. Basch frowned, the blindness made him less sure of things than he normally was. "What are you doing?"

"Taking advantage of the situation."

Too late, Basch heard the sly undertones in the pirate's voice that would normally set off alarms in his head. Basch came up hard on something --a wall?-- and remembered there'd been an alley beside him when the blindness took over. "Taking advantage, or creating your own?"

Balthier laughed, pressing himself against Basch's front. Voice low and breath washing warm across Basch's lips, "It's all the same in the end now, isn't it?"

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	4. Blue

Disclaimer: I am sitting on a pile of sand. I don't own it, but I'd give it all up if these characters where mine.

Warnings: Written for Revenant Wings which I fully admit to not having finished. Yet.

Notes: Ficcing as a form of bandaging where continuity fails? An old art for fans. Hopefully you will all not mind my thoughts as to why all of the characters suddenly have blue eyes when they originally didn't.

Total Blue  
by Fairady

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The escape had been chaotic. As always Penelo only remembers it in flashes. Running past crumbling columns, patches of sky appearing beneath her feet, and the airship had plummeting before them. And a chill. A tingling chill from when she briefly held their half of the treasure.

Strangely it's the memory of the cold that stays with her as she follows Vaan into the Strahl's cockpit. There's power in that stone, and she's just starting to wonder if it's activated by touch like some of the cursed items they infrequently found in their journeys. But if it was cursed Fran would have stopped them before they could get too close if it was cursed.

Balthier turns at their entrance, voice pitying despite the obvious smirk he doesn't try hiding. "I told you Icarus would be an ill fated name."

Vaan slumps into one of the empty chairs, kicking the back of Balthier's petulantly. "No you didn't. You didn't say anything until after I'd already named her and it was too late to change!"

"A little research is never remiss," Fran puts in. Penelo can't see her face, but the cant of her ears is as telling as any curve of a lip could be. "Especially when it comes to names."

"Yeah, well," Vaan trails off rolling his eyes because he doesn't have a quick answer to Fran's truth.

Penelo opens he mouth to tell him not to be so childish, but stops to stare at him with narrowed eyes, "Vaan, what's wrong with your eyes?"

"Huh?" Vaan looks away from the window. His eyes are blue, as blue as the sky outside. Which is as far as they can get from the rich brown she's used to seeing. "What is it?"

"Vaan," Penelo leans in, almost touching Vaan's face. The color doesn't change. "You're eyes are blue."

"No, they're not," Vaan twists back to the window, leaning as close to the glass as he can get squinting at the faint reflection. "Hey, they are!"

"But why-" Penelo turns to the front confused. She's seen a lot of strange spells and traps that change people, but nothing this subtle before. Balthier has twisted around and looks back curiously, and his eyes match Vaan's exactly. Penelo swallows and points. "Yours too, Balthier."

"Blue seems to be the new fashion," Balthier says, and he's looking right at her as he says it. Looking right into her eyes.

Penelo touches the skin under her left eye as Vaan suddenly leans over her. "Wow, I didn't notice that before! Hey, what could've done this?"

"I'm not entirely sure." Balthier turns back to the controls. The back of his chair hides most of him, but Penelo is close enough to see the hand that rests lightly on the pouch holding his share of the treasure. Fran's ears are stiff and one hand reaches out to hover close to her partner.

And Penelo remembers the cold power from the stone earlier, and wonders if it isn't cursed after all. What is this treasure exactly? And why-

"Well," Vaan finally says breaking the uncomfortable silence. "I don't feel any different. Guess it's nothing to worry about."

Balthier has the unique ability to fit an entire diatribe against idiots into a sigh. Fran can say the same by simply turning her head to ilook/i at someone. Penelo is less practiced than either of them and settles for simply slapping Vaan upside his head.

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	5. Order

Disclaimer: I don't own or make money off of these, Square does. I can only look on enviously as my money gets forked over to them.

Warnings: Um, none.

Notes: Just a bit of Penelo thinking, and trying to figure out the people she's with. She probably had to do a lot of that at the beginning when she was pulled in so many different directions. Poor girl probably never got a good explanation until Raithwall's Tomb.

Order: Vossler  
by Fairady

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Vossler says nothing but Penelo can feel him watching her when they are forced to fight.

He does not leave Ashe's side, because she is the most important person there. He also does not stray far enough to leave Basch's back unguarded, and Penelo knows that is because he is second in some order of importance that is only in Vossler's mind. It's an order that is very important to the man, and one he never deviates from.

Occasionally --when Penelo's footing slides or her block isn't just quite fast enough-- a blur of metal will shoot over her shoulder killing whatever was attacking her. She eventually works out that she is third in his order. She thought Vaan was fourth --innocent civilians and all-- but was quickly abused of that notion quite early. Fourth was Vossler himself, and Vaan was ranked the same as the Balthier and Fran. The Sky Pirates had no importance at all to Vossler.

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	6. Secrets

Warnings: Bit of yuri.

Disclaimer: I do not own, and it is better that way.

Notes: Based on a comment_fic request. My Fran voice is weak.

Secrets  
by Fairady

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Penelo was young even by Hume standards. She was barely more than a girl yet still she carried herself with the poise and gait of a woman many years older. A woman and a little girl. It was a contradiction that defined the short lives of Humes, and was a constant source of fascination for Fran.

If Penelo had been born Veira she would be taken under the tutelage of an older sister or friend, and be taught the truths that every woman should know. She would be eased through the awkward transition between being a child and being an adult. It was a transition that seemed universal among all the races. A confusing and sometimes frightening growth that was handled differently for each race.

It was a transition that Penelo had never been guided through. Hence the way the young one seemed to dance between being a little girl and a grown woman. She had discovered some things herself obviously, but the rest was still shrouded in mystery. Penelo would eventually discover it all for herself, of this Fran was certain, but that discovery was not guaranteed to be pleasant. Some of those secrets, if found wrongly, could hurt far more than anything in the world.

And it is this reason alone that makes Fran take Penelo aside. To tell her facts that no one had thought to tell her. Fran points out different plants and monsters, reciting the medicinal qualities only a woman would need. She draws her attention to the eyes of the men they pass in their travels, and teaches her to recognize what their looks might mean. They are hard lessons that Penelo is better off learning from another woman.

Even the softer lessons are better learned from a woman. Fran knows from experience that no thick fingered man would know the right way to touch a woman. Few even bother to learn the spots of a woman's body that make them arch and moan. It is a lesson Fran teaches her well in. Everything she would need to survive in the world as a woman.

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	7. Ache

Disclaimer: I neither own nor make money off of these characters. You can tell because of, well, Basch. I'd never be able to do that to him.

Warnings: Eh, some.

Notes: No idea where this was going. Just cleaning out my WIP folder for the game.

Ache  
by Fairady

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After the first match between Vossler and the foreign man, those who knew him well slyly inquired about his plans for a more private rematch. Never, would be a perfect time as far as Vossler is concerned. He did not know Basch fon Rosenberg at all, but it was plain that the man was not the type Vossler preferred.

It was an assessment that proved itself true soon after. That very night Basch made fast friends with half the company over their usual rounds at the nearest bar. The man was easy to get along with, and through the conversation of that night Vossler was able to gather an understanding of Basch.

It was not so much what was said, as what was not said through the night. The words he used to carefully steer the usual flirts and tarts away from him. The tone he used when talking with the other men about their lovers, and the one he used when asked about his own past lovers. Basch really was not the type that Vossler preferred, he was not able to fuck and then forget.

The man spoke of love and affection the same way most spoke of sex. It was clear that getting involved with him would mean nothing less than a full and complicated attachment. It was a complication that he was better off avoiding.

His own dreams betrayed him though. At night a spar would be revisited, or perhaps it was a casual conversation. Hells, he once dreamed they were on the parade grounds during an inspection!

Where, never mattered, all that mattered was that in his dreams Basch was far closer than he should be. A solid wall of heat that teased and promised so much. Perhaps he was clothed, perhaps he was not. Vossler's mind changed that on a whim, but either way Vossler still _ached_ to touch him.

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	8. Squeak

Disclaimer: I neither own nor make money off of these characters. You can tell because of, well, Basch. I'd never be able to do that to him.

Warnings: Eh, none.

Notes: It's true.

Squeak  
by Fairady

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Rank hath its own privileges.

Vossler's father had been fond of repeating that line. Undoubtedly he had meant it as duty and honor being their own rewards, but Vossler found that he did not mind the other privileges that came with the new title of Lieutenant.

"The beds make no noise," Vossler said with the air of a man singing hymns for the first time. "I checked. No matter how much you move them they do not make a single sound."

Basch smiled, "I don't know what you are talking about."

"Of course not," Vossler glared at him. "That thrice damned squeaking cot was yours."

"Don't blame me for knowing that the only person not bothered by a noisy bed is the one sleeping in it," Basch grinned back unrepentantly.

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	9. Cycle

Disclaimer: I own not and make no money off of this.

Warnings: None much.

Notes: Ah, the course of love ne'er runs smooth or some crap like that. I see this as being a never ending cycle.

Cycle  
by Fairady

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Basch is almost twenty when he falls in love with the daughter of a merchant. Vossler, being the good friend and comrade in arms that he is, teases him mercilessly. Basch does his level best to ignore his friend and pays court to the woman and her father.

Amalia is beautiful, all dark hair and even darker eyes, and accepts his gifts with a blush he finds utterly fascinating. Vossler doesn't find her blush interesting in the least, but finds it utterly hilarious how thinking about it makes Basch stupid. Basch does his best to ignore this as well.

One day, Basch overhears a servant talking about the scarlet flower of cactoids. Vossler calls him a romantic and -when Basch does not change his mind- insane. Basch ignores him and procures the thickest leather gloves he can find.

When Basch comes back, bloody and still pulling needles out of his gloves, Vossler does what any sane man in his position would do. He laughs until he's near tears. Basch responds the only way he can, by pulling his gloves off and doing his level best to _break_ Vossler's ribs.

A months pay goes into having the flower set in a hair comb with Amalia's name on it, but Basch has no complaints about the price. Vossler, however, has plenty, especially when he's stuck with their next bar tab. Basch is too drunk on spirits and the thought of Amalia's smile to care about his loud insults.

Amalia runs off with a dark-haired mercenary before Basch can give her his latest gift, and it somehow ends up in little Princess Ashelia's hands. Vossler doesn't complain at this bar tab, and only agrees with everything the drunk Basch says. They both suffer through the effects of a massive hangover in stoic silence the next day, agreeing without words to never speak of Amalia again.

A month passes taking with it the sting of Basch's broken heart. Though he winces whenever the Princess, thinking the name a grand lark, refers to herself as Amalia. Vossler meanwhile falls in love with a dancer.

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	10. Ambassador

Disclaimer: I own not, alas, and make no money off of this.

Warnings: Crack.

Notes: Crack meme paired these two up and I think they could be good for each other. Just not in the long term.

Ambassador  
by Fairady

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Sighing, Sakura gave her favorite books one last pat before leaving the mammoth library. She didn't regret the six months spent in Archadia as a medical aide to Fire Country's ambassador. It would almost be worth it to volunteer for another tour, but Tsunade's last missive had been very clear on how much she was needed back home. Books returned, Sakura only had one last important task before leaving. She nodded to a few people she recognized as she passed them.

Most of them ignored her, some openly sneered at her passage. The xenophobic haughtiness of Archadians had stopped angering her months ago though. Now, she only felt amused when an official tried to look down his stubby nose at her. A change for the better, a hot temper could only lead Sakura into a world of trouble after all. It was a change that was entirely Gabranth's fault.

Sakura turned down another of the palaces endless halls and sighted her target. The office door was opened, a clear invitation that she took. Gabranth was buried in paperwork as usual.

He'd once confided in her that he thought it was all sentient because it seemed to breed when his back was turned. Though whether he'd meant it as truth or simply a means of keeping her from introducing her fist into a snotty courier's face was another matter.

"Sakura," Gabranth carefully set a missive aside to dry before rising to his feet. "Have you finished settling your accounts?"

"Almost," Sakura shut the door behind her and walked past the offered chair. "I just have one last thing that needs to be done."

"Really," Gabranth's smile, honest and warm, belied the curtness of his voice. "I cannot imagine what."

"Not even a guess?" Sakura asked with a grin as she looped her arms around Gabranth's -thankfully unarmored- broad shoulders. Leaning against his chest and rising up on her toes. Though that only brought her nose to his throat.

"I wouldn't think to presume," Gabranth indulged her by leaning down. His arms winding around her waist to hitch her up a little higher. His scar creasing with his own smile. "Only hope."

Sakura's laughter was muffled by his kiss.

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